Does anyone remember Oscar Levant? A singular personality, Levant was a talented concert pianist who appeared in movies (An American in Paris, The Band Wagon) and as a sought-after guest on talk shows in TV’s early days. Appearances on The Tonight Show with host Jack Paar showed off Levant as a witty and  personable raconteur who was unafraid to speak frankly about his own shortcomings—yet, because he was an endless font of hilarious one-liners (“this [show] and the psych ward...the only two places in the world I can still get repeat bookings,” he said), there was little consideration from others about his own mental well-being.

 

Thanks to Sean Hayes, who is simply spectacular as Levant, Doug Wright’s Good Night, Oscar (which was written for Hayes) is a must-see 100 minutes in the theater. The play, fictionalizing an appearance by Levant on Paar’s show in 1958, is based on real events: here, Oscar’s steely wife June—who committed her husband a month earlier because of his mental health struggles—signs him out of the institution for a few hours so he can be Paar’s guest. In the play, Wright introduces Paar (a game Ben Rappaport), who’s nervous about whether his unreliable guest will show up; NBC boss Bob Sarnoff (a furtive Peter Grosz), who’s incensed that Levant’s unstable behavior may ruin a live show; and Paar’s (fictional) assistant Max (an amusing Alex Wyse), who knows seemingly every detail about Oscar’s screen career. 

 

With time to spare, Oscar arrives—after June (a fine but underused Emily Bergl) smooths things over with Paar and Sarnoff—along with his chaperone, Alvin (a solid Marchant Davis), who’s an orderly from the hospital carrying a valise filled with assorted pills for his patient. That triggers Wright’s most contrived episode in the play, as Oscar conveniently gets to the stash of pills from the otherwise careful Alvin with help from Max before going to talk to Paar in front of millions of viewers. 

 

Wright’s script also awkwardly inserts the ghost of George Gershwin (a slick John Zdrojeski) into the proceedings, appearing as a figment of Oscar’s unruly imagination—Oscar had a complicated relationship with Gershwin, who was far more famous, beloved and wealthy than Oscar. The legend of Gershwin was burnished when he died far too young at age 38, while Oscar kept going, making money playing Gershwin’s greatest hits at the piano while ignoring his own ability to compose.

 

It’s not until Levant and Paar are seated in front of the TV camera trading quips that Good Night, Oscar finally stops pretending it’s more than a Sean Hayes vehicle. The pair goes back and forth about topics not suitable for late night TV in the late 50s, such as politics, sex and religion. (Oscar tells Paar that God “was my roommate” at “this swank sanitarium over in Del Rey.”) Hayes magisterially reminds us why Oscar was the perfect talk-show guest, funny but unpredictable, slightly nervous and even sad. 

 

Director Lisa Peterson smoothly steers Wright’s bumpy but entertaining ride toward the play’s astonishing coup de theatre. Oscar reluctantly agrees to perform at the piano on The Tonight Show but insists he’ll play one of his own works. It is here that Hayes’ slow-burn performance—throughout, he has the nervous tics down and he imitates the unique-sounding voice with wondrous acuity, never resorting to caricature but instead making Oscar richly, sympathetically—and often uproariously—human. 

 

Oscar sits down at the piano, fending off Gershwin’s taunting spirit with the sarcastic retort, “Oh, God...you’re my fantasy...I’m the one making up your lines.” He then plays the first chords of Gershwin’s classic Rhapsody in Blue. This is where Hayes—an accomplished pianist himself—takes his portrayal to an rarefied level. Not only does he perform Rhapsody in Blue in enormously impressive fashion (especially since he plays most of it with little or no orchestral accompaniment) but he plays it brilliantly in character as Oscar, a fiendishly difficult feat to pull off persuasively.

 

Hayes’ histrionically and musically powerful performance is topped by the ultimate showstopping number—the audience stands, for once appropriately, for a good long while after he finishes playing the piece—more so than anything in Sweeney Todd, Camelot or Funny Girl. Good Night, Oscar itself might not be a good play, but as long as Hayes is channeling Oscar, through his wit and while sitting at the piano, it’s the most welcome vehicle on Broadway.